


Look Away from the Truth

by dNwfvBj9



Category: Persona 4
Genre: (Magatsu) Izanagi! Adachi, Accomplice Ending (Persona 4), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Izanami! Yu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 12:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15315081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dNwfvBj9/pseuds/dNwfvBj9
Summary: People die and more people die, but what's new? A thousand people could die and you'd still be alone, left to stew in the darkness by the man who abandoned you.





	Look Away from the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> You ever have those moments of "AH" sudden inspiration in the middle of the night? I wrote this at 1 AM last night, RIP my sleep schedule.
> 
> Yu's gender is ambiguous in this, feel free to interpret however you like.

You were always dead, or when were you ever alive?  
  
When you first saw Tohru Adachi, you knew at once. Like the maggots that infest your body, like your blackened and charred limbs, you knew who he was.  
  
Your _husband_ gives you a smile as he enters the home, a vapid grin belying hidden sharpness, yellow eyes concealed behind grey, before dumping your drunk uncle unceremoniously on the ground.  
  
You remember cringing at the sight.  
  
He acted like he didn’t know you and in a different world, a different lifetime where you weren't saddled with scars and burns, fire and death, you might've been fooled. But here, now, yellow eyes meet your grey and you remain unblinking.  
  
He turns away with a half-formed laugh. Some husband he is.

 

* * *

 

People die and more people die, but what's new? A thousand people could die and you'd still be alone, left to stew in the darkness by the man who abandoned you.  
  
Rumours spread of the Midnight Channel but it's of no interest to you. At midnight, you ignore the television every time a silhouette appears. You've been blind since birth, with maggot infested eyeballs shriveled and weak, so what's something like truth to you?  
  
You once saw a blue door while walking through the Central Shopping District. It beckoned you to enter but you resolutely turned away.  
  
The door never appeared again. You never dream of limousines or long noses.

 

* * *

 

A thousand people die and yet, a thousand and five hundred are not born.  
  
Perhaps you were supposed to save them, you think as you gaze into your television. Perhaps you did save them once, when things were different and you were not _you_.  
  
You reach out a hand only to meet the solid surface of the TV screen.  
  
You’re surprised, but you're not surprised, or are you? It would be stranger if the screen of the television gave way, wouldn't it? Would've been truly twisted if there was a world inside the TV where all the victims were. You could save them and then you’d all join forces to catch the killer deep inside the TV World, or so you find yourself thinking.  
  
You outgrew such fantasies lifetimes ago. You look away and turn your thoughts to mundanities to pass the time. Yellow fog fills your room and you haven’t breathed in years.

 

* * *

 

You confront him when the taste of death in the air becomes too much, too intolerable for even you to bear. It's like being in the Underworld all over again, or so you’d like to think. Maybe you were never there. Maybe you never left and Inaba is your own special hell, created just for you!  
  
Well, you confront him with the taste of rust in your mouth and the tinge of smoke in your hair.  
  
At first, he laughs. He laughs for a long time and you can’t help a brief smile yourself. Then he falls silent and meets your gaze, as serious as you've ever seen him, and suddenly you can’t help but suppress a shudder.  
  
You think he can see you for what you really are now, can see the death in your eyes and the pallid tone of your skin, ivory bones that make up the remnants of your charred corpse. You hope he won't flee again but hey, since when has your husband ever _not_ let you down?  
  
This time, he doesn't let you down.  
  
He drags you down with him.  
  
As the letter burns, you wonder if things could have been different.  
  
It's a pointless train of thought.

 

* * *

 

In the middle of the fog covered interrogation room, the detective laughs. You find yourself chuckling too.

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this by this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11693208 (Kadavertreue by Memaiko).


End file.
